


Like the Way it Hurts

by Anonymous



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Aftercare, Age Difference, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Sylvain Jose Gautier, Daddy Kink, Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Guilt, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Oral Sex, Pain Kink, Painful Sex, Painplay, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Praise Kink, Spanking, Top Rodrigue Achille Fraldarius, Underprepared Anal, consensual painful sex, no beta we die like Glenn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-15
Updated: 2021-01-15
Packaged: 2021-03-13 13:47:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28779246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: This particular game – one with a goal of both pleasure and pain – had been Sylvain’s idea, a few moons into the war when their relationship was still a little new and raw. Rodrigue had been reluctant at first, partially because he didn’t want to hurt the younger man. But, more than that, out of concern for his mental well-being. Was Sylvain asking him to try because he enjoyed the pain, or because he thought he deserved it? In the end, Sylvain had assured him it was most definitely the former, and Rodrigue agreed, never quite able to deny Sylvain his whims.And, perhaps because the Goddess simply loved tempting him even closer to the eternal flames, Rodrigue found he enjoyed it too._____Sylvain likes it when it hurts. Rodrigue indulges him.
Relationships: Rodrigue Achille Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Comments: 1
Kudos: 18
Collections: Anonymous





	Like the Way it Hurts

**Author's Note:**

> The follow-up I never intended to write to another Rodvain story I wrote as a kinkmeme fill. The other story is called Daddy (if you click on Rodrigue/Sylvain relationship tag, the story is still on the first page of filtered results since it's not a very active tag), but this one reads just fine as a stand-alone.

Sylvain shudders in anticipation, fingers clenching in the sheets… letting go… tightening again. He sighs so sweetly as Rodrigue runs a gentle hand along his spine, back arching into it like a touch-starved pet. That’s one thing that has not changed in the time they’ve been together; no matter how much attention the man lavishes on his young lover, Sylvain drinks it all up greedily, like it will never be enough to quench his thirst to be touched and loved and appreciated. Rodrigue is always happy to try, however.

Rodrigue presses down firmly between his shoulder blades, a silent warning to stay still, something that has never been Sylvain’s forte. The younger man tries his hardest though, eager to please. He’s beautiful, Rodrigue can’t help but admire as he traces delicate fingers over his broad muscles, born of years of fighting and war. His skin is flushed a lovely pink, so soft and yielding under his lover’s touch. Open and trusting, naked on his stomach, legs spread wide. Hard and leaking against the sheets. Quivering.

The man works his hands lower, smoothing over his hips, reaching their ultimate goal of the swell of his firm rear. Sylvain moans as Rodrigue kneads into the taut flesh there, giving the occasional slap that makes Sylvain’s hips buck.

“So eager,” he teases, leaning down to press a biting kiss to Sylvain’s freckled shoulder, worrying a red mark there that will blossom into a bruise soon enough. Sylvain sighs. “You’ve made me wait so long for this, Sylvain.” His tone is scolding, but only just. It’s a delicate balance that Rodrigue has carefully cultivated over the past couple of years. Too much scorn, and Sylvain starts to believe it, thinks he deserves it. Too little, and the game feels flat and unsatisfying.

“I’m sorry, Daddy,” he mutters, voice muffled in the pillow. And that simply won’t do. Rodrigue winds a hand through his hair, tugging firmly, forcing Sylvain to turn his head. His cheeks are flushed, eyes half-lidded and glazed over. Pliant and already lost in their game. “You know I would have visited sooner, but the war-”

Sylvain moans, words dying in his throat, when Rodrigue delivers a hard, stinging slap to his rear. “I didn’t ask to hear excuses,” he scolds. “You promised me you would be a good boy for me tonight. Are you going to keep your promise?”

He squirms under Rodrigue’s fingers. “Yes, Daddy.”

Rodrigue rewards his obedience with loving strokes to his hair, delighting in the way his eyelids flutter closed in contentment, the way the tension leaves him in an instant and he practically melts into the mattress. His heart flutters fondly as he takes a moment to pet and soothe Sylvain.

Sometimes, it’s easy to forget how much Sylvain enjoys their strange relationship. When the younger man is gone, and Rodrigue is left touching himself alone to the memories of their times together, there is the occasional rush of guilt that leaves him cold and breathless. How can he sleep at night, knowing he’s been intimate with a boy he’s known since childhood, since _birth_? A man young enough to be his own son. How can he go about their secret affair, feeling like an old, perverted lech taking advantage of a vulnerable young man, getting off on his own son’s closest friend calling him _daddy_? It is little comfort that his vulgar attraction to Sylvain only started after the boy was grown and able to make his own decisions, perhaps the one mercy that will save him from burning in the eternal flames.

Yet, with Sylvain laid out so sweetly and willingly under him, it is the farthest thing from his mind. Who cares about the twenty years that separate them, or the scandal that would surround them should their relationship be discovered, or the hatred and disgust – moreso than usual – that he would see in his son’s eyes if he ever learned the truth?

Sylvain is exactly where he wants to be, and Rodrigue has made his peace with the fact that it’s exactly where he wants Sylvain, too.

His hand tightens once more in Sylvain’s hair, blunt nails scraping into his scalp, drawing a gasp from the redhead. “Such a naughty boy, making Daddy wait. You send those dirty, teasing letters, knowing what they do to me? Do you remember what you wrote?” Biting his lip, Sylvain nods. “Tell me.”

“Said that I touched myself thinking about you, Daddy,” he breathes. “That I couldn’t wait to feel you inside me again.”

“Vulgar, greedy boy,” he chides, tugging harder on his hair. “So desperate for Daddy’s cock. Tell me, do you think your behavior deserves a reward or a punishment?”

He can see the boy’s Adam’s apple bob as he swallows hard, lip quivering, eyes pointedly avoiding Rodrigue’s stern gaze. “Punishment…”

“That’s right.” He releases Sylvain’s hair, returning his hands to his ass and raking his nails over the reddened flesh. “Are you going to behave and take your punishment like a big boy?”

“Yes, Daddy.”

“Safe word?”

“Teutates.”

“Good boy.”

He grabs the vial of oil from the side table and coats a single finger.

This particular game – one with a goal of both pleasure and pain – had been Sylvain’s idea, a few moons into the war when their relationship was still a little new and raw. Rodrigue had been reluctant at first, partially because he didn’t want to hurt the younger man. But, more than that, out of concern for his mental well-being. Was Sylvain asking him to try because he enjoyed the pain, or because he thought he deserved it? In the end, Sylvain had assured him it was most definitely the former, and Rodrigue agreed, never quite able to deny Sylvain his whims.

And, perhaps because the Goddess simply loved tempting him even closer to the eternal flames, Rodrigue found he enjoyed it too.

He presses the finger slowly into Sylvain’s hole, his free hand spreading his cheeks apart for easier access. Sylvain groans, hips canting back against his finger until a warning spank makes him stop with a whine. Rodrigue is meticulous, making up for the lack of stretching by applying and reapplying copious amounts of oil. The goal, after all, is pain, not injury.

Rodrigue works with just the single finger until the oil is dribbling down towards his balls in glistening beads, hole barely stretched open but incredibly slick and slippery. Sylvain whines when the finger withdraws, managing to keep still as Rodrigue unties the laces of his trousers, strained and tented from his erection. He never removes more than his shirt for this game, just frees his cock and gives it a few pumps to bring it to full hardness before coating it with yet more oil.

“Are you ready?” Rodrigue asks, lining up at Sylvain’s hole, spreading his cheeks wide, nails digging half-circles into his skin.

“Yes, Daddy.”

Sylvain wails as Rodrigue sinks in to the hilt, walls tight as a vise around him as he’s split open on his lover's cock.

“D-daddy,” he sobs into the pillow, back arching, fingers tangled so tight into the sheet his knuckles are white. “It _hurts…_ Hurts so- so much…”

Rodrigue presses him back down with a firm hand, already beginning a brisk pace. “I know it hurts,” he says over the smack of skin-on-skin. “You were a naughty boy, and this is your punishment. You wanted Daddy’s cock, didn’t you?”

“Y-yes, Daddy.”

“And you said you would behave and take your punishment.”

“I… I w-will, Daddy.”

“What’s our rule, Sylvain?”

His chest heaves with a sob. “T-take what Daddy g-g-gives you.”

“Good boy.”

With his hands bracketing Sylvain’s shoulders, Rodrigue continues fucking him in a steady rhythm, not too hard, not too gentle. Sylvain’s sobs taper off into sniffles and low moans as the burn fades into something more manageable. Rodrigue offers the occasional gentle affirmation as Sylvain takes what he’s given.

“Behaving so well for Daddy,” he breathes against the shell of the younger man’s ear. “You feel so good around my cock, Sylvain. Would my good little boy like me to cum inside?”

“Y-yes, Daddy.”

Worrying his teeth into the juncture between Sylvain’s neck and shoulder, Rodrigue manages a few more even thrusts before he spends with a shudder. He peppers Sylvain’s back and shoulders and neck with soft kisses as he catches his breath.

Sylvain hisses when he pulls out his softening length a few moments later, a mixture of oil and cum trickling out after. He takes a moment to admire his work, tracing light fingers over his red ass and swollen, dripping hole, making Sylvain whimper and squirm. But he takes it.

Careful as he can, Rodrigue runs a damp rag between Sylvain’s legs, taking tender care to clean him without causing further discomfort. When the mess is cleaned, he carefully rolls Sylvain over onto his back. The pillow is damp with tears and saliva, as are Sylvain’s still-flushed cheeks.

His eyes, red from crying, stare up at Rodrigue in a lust-hazed search for approval. “Did I do good for you, Daddy?”

Rodrigue presses a kiss to his brow. “You did beautifully, Sylvain.” He sweeps a sweaty lock of red hair out of his face. “I think you deserve your reward, now.” His focus turns toward Sylvain’s erection, flagging after being ignored for so long. The man bows his head and takes it in his mouth.

Sylvain’s moans are wrecked, hoarse from sobbing. Rodrigue teases him back to full hardness, keeping a firm hand on Sylvain’s hip to keep him from bucking up into his mouth. The younger man winds a hand through Rodrigue’s hair, not pushing, just clinging on to him as his lover takes him to the hilt.

It doesn’t take long before Sylvain spends, and Rodrigue contentedly swallows down the hot spurts of seed that flood his mouth.

Sylvain is pliant when Rodrigue pulls him against his chest, his head lolling over his lover's heart. Rodrigue smooths his hands over Sylvain’s heated skin, doing his best to convey the affection that he feels in the silence that the younger man likes to bask in after a particularly strenuous or intense fuck. It makes his heart swell when Sylvain nuzzles against him, the affirmation that the man needs that Sylvain enjoyed himself.

The beautiful hazel eyes that he loves blink up at him, a soft, dopey smile over Sylvain’s lips. “Thank you, Rod.” The game is dropped, no longer Daddy and his little boy, but Rodrigue and Sylvain.

Rodrigue tilts his chin up and claims his lips. “You don’t need to thank me,” he mutters once he releases them. “Did you enjoy yourself, love?” Sylvain nods drowsily, eyelids already drooping as sleep ebbs toward him. “Then it was my pleasure.”


End file.
